Three Bullets
by yararebird
Summary: The last in my Purgatory series, and this one is for Mary Eunice, though the vehicle may be a bit surprising. Revenge, justice, the good, the bad, and the ugly... Also be prepared for unrepentant femslash. Expect lots of familiar faces, too.
1. When the Man Comes Around

"_Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand." _\- Revelation of St. John the Divine, v. 6

It was night in the desert, and cold. All was black on the ground, fading to that singular blue and a sky full of shameless stars. The moon was full, but it seemed little light penetrated the dessicated valley between mountains and beneath plateaus. Somewhere, a lonely coyote cried. Creatures who avoided the deadly sun skittered across stones. There were few sounds; these only, and the steady crushing clop of heavy hoofbeats, slowing.

The horse and rider stopped beneath an elegantly carved stone arch - carved by time, by ageless elements - carved as only God and nature can. The wind blowing through the butte was cold. Not cool, but cold. Bone chilling. There was no midway in the desert. This unforgiving landscape was Hell-hot and sunbaked during the day, and unforgiving arctic chill in the evening. The rider was well-equipped for the harshness.

Clad as black as the night - head to toe - a thick, weathered duster protecting and midnight hat hiding eyes that sought justice4 and a mysterious and dark bandanna defending facade. This rider couldn't be called pale, Stygian as the murky Styx. And the horse? The same, or more moonless.

He was a pitch stallion. 20 hands high by the least generous measurement. His mane glowed, moved like oil in the moon's lamp. His tail perched tall. But most notable was the demon's eyes - red. Alight with fire. No ordinary horse.

No ordinary rider.

Beneath the arch, cupped by the cold butte, the rider dismounted easily. This was a fine enough place to camp. Saddle bags rang. Bivouak was simple: on a clear night - bedroll and fire. There was enough tinder at hand. Tumbleweeds trapped by cacti. Easily broken to nest a flame.

Thick leather gloves revealed hands weathered by travel, by hardship. Quick hands. They fumbled hardtack and jerky into a meal. This life of hardship knew no luxury, but was quick to enjoy it when provided. Water from a canteen ran low. There would need to be a spring soon. But there was a town close by, and that would do to re-fuel horse and rider. And possibly even purpose.

The rider was a bounty hunter. Heaven sent to restore rare grace; or the Devil's own red right hand. Six gun strapping. Nearing six feet tall. Quiet as the hawk flies and as swift. If there was money to be made in the next village, there would be a poster to collect. The sheriff. The bank. The post post office. Train stations. These were the places displaying the faces of the earth's notorious scum - prices on the heads of murderers, robbers, rapists. Less people - more pelf.

And a successful collector - such as this one - had a horse singing with the jingle of gold and silver coin.

A tanned hand curiously caressed a random skull, scattered by predator. Bleached by the bastard sun. Coyote? Eyes blackened by night studied the bone structure. Too small. A fox, then. Set upon a nearby stone, it watched over the tiny camp.

The rider was tired. Days had passed since El Paso. Since the last bounty was collected. And the desert gave no respite. But train tracks - spotted a day earlier - promised civilization soon. And civilization promised hot meals, baths, beds and opportunity.

Every bounty was opportunity, true. But there were three bullets in a pouch pressed tight to this hunter's heart, suspended on a soft leather cord. Three bullets custom-carved like the painted desert plateau. Three bullets patiently waiting to find the name etched upon each one. Three bullets driving harder than thousands in gold and silver. Bespoke revenge. Bounties from beyond any mere mortal bank.

_Whoever is unjust let him be unjust still_

_Whoever is righteous let him be righteous still_

_Whoever is filthy let him be filthy still_

The rider's lullabye played on the whistling desert wind. Hat tilted over face. Back on solid ground. Boots crossed, spurs tucking. Wool a cursed cocoon. Sleep was quick, and deep. No rest for the wicked, but for the reaper of the wicked souls...repose.

Even the coyotes quieted tonight. Occasionally the chuckle of an elf owl, echoing amongst saguaros. The breath of the massive horse. There was more peace in the desert than in the heart of any mankind, and the bounty hunter's heart was no exception.

Morning broke the night's cold spell with immediate heat. As soon as any sun peaked over mesas, began the day of desperation. A coffee pot right into the fire's rider took the liquid black. No surprise. Bivouak packed onto horse's back, they prepared to take to the trail. Less than a mile west, train tracks glimmered - but not a mirage. A promise of civilization - of possibility. They followed the iron rails from a distance. Already the desert sent its dust swirling.

The horse was unbothered. Red eyes glistened in the unforgiving sun. They pushed on by painted plateaus, through innumerable buttes until trail became less trail and more eroded stone. And here - in the most unlikely of locations - a crossroad.

The faded sign - words burned into worn wood - forked only two directions. East: Grenadine. West: Purgatorio.

The choice was quick and clear. A tisk against teeth. Jerk of the reigns. The black mass of horse and hunter as one turned west.


	2. Arms and the Angel

Purgatorio spread beneath the craggy outcropping a sprawling homage to the quintessential western frontier. Dirty, dusty streets of long dried mud. Corrals bustling with painted ponies. The train station muted red. Houses here and there seeming made of driftwood, as though the desert ocean delivered the building materials. And the rider supposed it did.

A tisk. The horse tackled steep slope without hesitation, loyal to its master's every suggestion. Passing an outlying ranch, two tattered children watched them pass, clinging to a splintered fence. Their faces were pale save for dirt. Their hair flaxen and rustled by breeze. The rider tipped hat to them, barely. They couldn't have known any expression hidden behind the bandana, but most likely it was as blank as the eyes beneath the hat appeared black.

There were no posters hanging outside the post office. It was the first storefront the rider passed. Inside, the postmaster tapped away at the telegraph. Past the general store was a saloon. Seemed to be the only one in town. The horse quivered nearing the pump and trough. It was excited at the prospect of water. So was the rider - not to mention the prospect of whiskey.

Canteen filled, the beast was tied at the trough, drinking thickly.

Suspicious eyes peered inside and outside of the saloon's swinging doors. The hunter scanned the lobby before entering, ever wary. Ever wary of every other eye in the room also scanning. But no hackles raised. No immediate danger. A table of gambling men near the window. An old timer drunken dribbling onto the player piano. A few tired whores lounging on the stairs.

This early in the day all was quiet, it seemed. But it wasn't too early for -

"Whiskey." The rider's voice was gruff, barely more than a heavy whisper. Little used. Dust-dimmed.

The bartender was quick to comply. Set a bottle of brown liquid on the worn bar. Wiped a glass. The rider took both. "Four bits for the bottle, stranger."

A gloved hand produced a jingling pouch and paid without a glance. The sound of coin brought greedy attention. "Looks like it's been a long, hard ride for you, stranger." The woman was heavily rouged. Heavily chested. Her emerald corset laced tightly. Her bunned black hair released ringlets around a fat face. "But...some folks appreciate a long, hard ride." She laughed at her own joke, surprisingly straight teeth leering.

The hunter tugged the bandana just enough to sip whiskey, face still shadowed by hat. The madam tried again. "How about a nice hot bath? Hm? And a bed for the night?" At the stranger's subtle nod, she brightened. "I'll get ya fed, too." She slid a hand suggestively across the hunter's dusty shoulders. "And of course, for a little extra fee...company?" She gestured to the lazy whores on the stairs. "I got some real pretty girls."

The rider held up a hand, stopping the madam. Her lips pursed, surprised, then smiled. "Very well, then. I'll just get you a room prepared. Eunice!" She snapped her fingers and a lazy whore scrambled to extract herself from the pile of lazy whores.

"Yes, ma'am?" There was such nervousness in the young voice. Some kind of fear. Something honeyed and sweetly familiar. The hunter's eyes cut the way hunters' eyes are apt to do - only slightly. But slightly was enough.

A petite girl. Pale shoulders revealed by the awry straps of a white satin corset. Blonde curls brushed a swan's neck. But a face too innocent, too kind for this cast. "Go prepare a bath in room 7. And fix the bed up. We've got a guest here."

"Yes, ma'am." A little curtsy and a shy smile at the imposing stranger.

The hunter's eyes didn't cut back fast enough. And the only eyes more observant than a hunter's are an old whore's. "Ahhh." The older woman followed the rider's gaze. "Reconsidering? She's new. A fresh little filly. Barely broken and -"

A gloved hand hushed the madam, thrusting a pouch against her whaleboned belly. "I'll take her."

"Wonderful! Eunice. Go on, now. Get that bath ready, and..." She caressed the girl's now quivering cheek, something of a thinly veiled threat in the touch. "Be a real good girl this time." She watched her young charge scurry away, eyes lit. Lit even further when she peered into the cotton pouch. She caught the hunter's duster in passing. "Wait! This is gold, stranger! You must be staying for some time! This is way more than -"

"Another bottle. My horse needs board." The rider lifted the whiskey. "And I'll keep the girl long as I'm here."

"Uh...yes, sir." The madam watched with wonder as the mysterious black-clad man mounted the stairs. She blew an appreciative breath as she counted the gold coins.

Room 7 was small but surprisingly clean. The rider entered quietly, locking the door, and set the whiskey bottle on the table beside the double bed. Rifle sling slid over hat, the shimmering black peacemaker propped on a wooden chair in the corner. Heavy black saddle bags secured its position.

There was humming in the portioned off bath area. The sound of water pouring. Steam rising. Behind the swinging saloon door, the whore in white was pouring boiling water into the brass tub. It was a hymn she hummed - _Abide With Me_. With no visible witnesses, she sang softly.

_Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;_

_The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;_

_When other helpers fail and comforts flee,_

_Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me._

_Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;_

_Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;_

_Change and decay in all around I see—_

_O Thou who changest not, abide with me._

_I need Thy presence every passing hour;_

_What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?_

_Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?_

A resigned sigh and she stood. She'd turned to the door and startled with a small scream at the presence of the hunter. "Oh, god!" A hand to her mouth, she attempted to cover her emotions with practiced - but not quite practiced enough - coyness. "You - you scared me, stranger." A heavy swallow. "I'm Eunice. But...I guess you already know that from Madam." She gestured. "Um. I got you a bath ready." Her cheeks pinked. "And if you like…" A little sashay - forced - brought her nearly against the rider. She didn't even attempt eye contact above the bandana. But shaky fingers toyed with the buckle of a gun belt. "I could wash your back."

Leather glove stopped her fingers. She looked up fast, and frightened. "I'm so sorry! I should have known. Gunslingers sure are particular about their...pieces." The fingers drifted ever so lightly over the hunter's groin. Up to the rim of black hat. "But what about this?" The drifter didn't stop her this time. She lifted the hat and blinked when a fall of thick, dirty blonde curls loosed over shoulders, dust wafting from them. "Well. That was...unexpected."

Time slowed. They weren't black eyes at all, but rich brown. Creased by sun and hardship. Eunice squinted. Her pink lips parted. She was holding her breath. Those delicate shaking fingers grew more shaky as she tugged at the hem of the bandana. The breathless gasp could have echoed for miles. There had never been fuller tears so sudden. "Oh, my God." The girl backed into the swinging doors, bending under emotion. "Oh, God," she moaned.

"Eunice." The rider finally spoke, trying deeper voice this time, stepping toward the cowering whore. The voice cracked at last, oiled by whiskey. "Mary Eunice."

Gloved hands took her pale arms and as though the touch woke a dormant snake she struck, flinging arms around the stranger, clinging, crying. "It's you! It's you!" She sobbed, broken. Her fingers clutched curls, flew over the familiar prominent cheekbones. She pressed her face into the rider's chest, nuzzling. "Is it really you?"

"It's me, Mary Eunice." The hunter tilted the girl's head up. "It's me." Black leathered thumbs stroked tears from porcelain cheeks.

Eunice's hands clutched the strong jaw. Her eyes took in every feature, every remembered curve and angle. She whispered as if in worship. "Sister Jude…"

It wasn't a fact that Jude was emotionless. That she had no feelings or desire to empathize. She'd simply spent so much time alone - so much time hardened by her mission and by the elements - that she _hadn't felt_ emotions. So it came as quite a shock to her both mentally and physically when she'd first laid eyes on Mary Eunice in this wasteland, this stepchild of Hell. And she'd certainly wanted to avoid revealing any part of her identity; being mistaken for a man served her more than well here. But more than that was simply the processing, the truly realizing this fragile familiar was _here_ and alive...or, as alive as alive could be considered after death. And in-between.

Also, she'd known only anger and retribution for so long that _this_ feeling - happiness - was completely alien. And it compounded so quickly it was hard to process. She was relieved to find Eunice, but furious to find her a _whore._

Jude's dusty shirt was wet with Eunice's weeping. She pushed the younger woman away briefly to take a good look at her. "Eunice...what in Hell are you doing here?"

"Me?" Eunice clumsily wiped her red, wet face. "You! What - what are you doing here?"

Jude took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can even begin to explain that."

But Eunice was already breaking down again. "Oh, Sister!" She wrapped Jude tightly. "I'm so glad you're here. I'm so sorry for everything that happened! I'm so-"

"Eunice." Jude kissed her head. "Eunice, stop. Listen. I'm not Sister Jude, anymore. I'm not a Sister. I haven't been far a long time. And what happened in that...that last life? That wasn't even yar fault." She pushed Eunice back once more. Looked her up and down searchingly. "Are ya alright? Have they hurt ya?" Eunice's crumbled expression revealed all and Jude shook her head. "Christ. C'mere." She stroked her ex-sister's back, held her lovingly. There was so much skin… "All that ends now, Eunice. Ya hear? Yar with me now."

"Oh, Jude. You don't know the Madam. She'll never let me go. She says she owns my soul!"

"_I'm_ the only one who collects souls here, Eunice. And it's time for yar soul to be yar own, anyway."

Eunice pulled away. "There's so much I want to know! So much I want you to tell me! Jude, how did -"

"Eunice?"

"Yes?"

"Can I answer these questions from the bathtub? While it's still hot?"

"Oh! Oh, yes!" She chuckled, beginning to unbutton Jude's shirt. "I forgot."

"Eunice. Stop." Jude stilled the busy hands. "I can undress myself." She tugged off the tight leather gloves. "And yar not workin' anymore. Nevah again." She slipped through the swinging doors. Two gun belts thunked against the wall when she hung them on the hook beside the bath. The shoulder holster jingled suit, followed by the thigh holster. She slung duster, shirt, and breeches over the partition doors. Eunice gathered them for the laundry, nose wrinkling at the dust and mud splatters.

"I thought you were a man," the girl murmured, smiling softly.

Jude could hear the smile. "I noticed."

Eunice sat on the bed while Jude bathed. There were weeks of desert crusted on her, it seemed. The hot water felt amazing and she worried she would need another bar of soap.

"How did you end up here?" Eunice asked softly.

Jude shrugged, even though Eunice couldn't see her through the cotton partition. "How did you?"

"Shachath. She told me I was needed here."

"Needed." Jude's forehead creased. "Far what?"

"I don't know. And you?"

"Also Shachath." Jude wrung her rag, looked around for a pail. "I couldn't let go, so she sent me here. Eunice, is there a pail somewhere? I wanna wash this hair."

Eunice slipped through the saloon door without warning, sending Jude sloshing panicked into the drink. "It's over here. I'll wash your hair."

"You can't just -"

"Lay back, okay?"

"Honestly. Eunice, I can wash my own hair."

"Trust me. Having help makes it much easier." Eunice crouched behind Jude, already pulling curls over the tub rim. "We girls do it all the time. Pass me the soap and that copper mug there."

Reluctantly, Jude sat up in the tub, arm across breasts, retrieving the little mug. Her face was a mess of uncertainty and Eunice giggled. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, you know. Especially here."

"Well, you haven't seen these befar." Jude crossed her arms over her chest when she sat back. "And we're gonna keep it that way."

"Would you like me to hang this up somewhere?" Eunice tugged at the leather cord around Jude's neck, sliding the wet leather pouch up between hugged breasts.

"No!" Jude grabbed the pouch, stilling it, momentarily forgetting her modesty. "It's fine. I - I nevah take it off."

"A good luck charm?"

"Somethin' like that." The pouch resettled on her chest, and Jude's arm resettled across her breasts.

Eunice's fingers were firm and knowledgeable in her hair. She had a rather perfected method of washing, rinsing, and massaging that had Jude's eyes drifting closed. "What was it you couldn't let go of?"

Jude sighed under the soothing ministrations. "Justice," she whispered.

"Hm." Eunice shifted on the stool, working her fingers firmly underneath Jude's cranium. "Hard to find that here."

"I'll have to make it." Jude's eyelids fluttered, taking in Eunice's sweet expression above her. "I...I missed ya, Eunice."

She paused briefly, tearing up again. "I missed you, too." Her forehead pressed to Jude's, almost like a prayer. The action lulled the gunslinger further into a momentary peace. And the singing helped. Eunice's smooth soft voice was lovely and soothing.

_Go to sleep little babe_

_Go to sleep little babe_

_Your momma's gone away and your daddy's gonna stay_

_Didn't leave nobody but the baby_

_Go to sleep little babe_

_Go to sleep little babe_

Jude knew the younger woman's work was cut out for her. There was straight desert dirt clinging to her scalp, and Eunice seemed on a quest to remove every grain of sand. It felt simply amazing, a sultry occasional scrape of short, manicured nails making her skin sing.

_Everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn_

_Didn't leave nobody but the baby_

_You're a sweet little babe_

_You're a sweet little babe_

_Honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop_

_Gonna bring a bottle to the baby_

And when she leaned forward to scoop rinse water, her singing breath brushed Jude's temple - or the top of her ear. Like a morning breeze warmed by sunlight. Jude sighed, arms relaxing. On her next dip, Eunice's wrist brushed breast, but the bounty hunter was beyond caring.

_Don't you weep pretty babe_

_Don't you weep pretty babe_

_She's long gone with her red shoes on_

_Gonna need another loving babe_

How long since she'd felt so gentled? So cared for? Nearly a year at least...since the wagon train from Minnesota. Since Katherine… She swallowed. Wouldn't think of Katherine. Couldn't. Outside, revelry and a few gunshots barely rattled her reverie. She smiled, those muscles straining against the unfamiliar expression.

_Go to sleep little babe_

_Go to sleep little babe_

_You and me and the devil makes three_

_Don't need no other lovin' babe_

_Go to sleep little babe_

_Go to sleep little babe_

_Come lay bones on the alabaster stones_

_And be my everlovin baby_

The copper mug clunked against pine planks. "You falling asleep?" Eunice asked sweetly.

"No." But yes.

A barely there kiss to her forehead. "I'll get you a towel, and a dressing gown."

"Mmmm." Not a care. Her arms draped over the brass rim, cooling in the air. And it didn't matter that Eunice was treated to an unadulterated peep show. Jude felt...blissful, at the moment.

"Here." A laugh. "If you're gonna sleep, you can sleep in a bed. Probably been a while, I bet."

"Since a bed?" Jude stretched, rising in the water. She didn't see Eunice's bitten lip, the way the girl's eyes traced the water rivuleting down a newly muscular body. "Weeks." Terry ensconced her. A cape of clean cotton. "Thank you," she whispered.

Eunice briefly rubbed her back beneath the towel. "You're welcome. There's a gown on that chair."

Clean, dried, dressed for bed, Jude emerged from the bath. Her body had begun to ache, circulation reinstated by the hot water and lullabye. Eunice was perched on the foot of the bed, waiting. "Hungry?"

"Famished."

"I'll be back, then." Eunice rose, gathered Jude's dusty clothes. "Madam will insist that I take good care of you." She paused at the door, looking back with a worried brow. "Um...how long are you...keeping me?"

Jude was wringing her hair with the towel. Smirked. "Forevah."

Eunice's cheeks pinkened. "Yes, sir."

The window was open, curtains swaying. Jude parted one slightly. Dusk was falling, and the streets were as she expected. Busy. Wagons. Horses. Dusty wanderers and women in calico and bonnets. A mingling of the good, the bad, the ugly and those like herself: in-between all the above. Was it Eunice, then, that had brought her here? To this town? Peculiar… Felt like something more.

Looking down, she could see a corral folding around the side of the saloon. Several painted ponies pranced there, long manes and tales flicking. She saw the edge of a stable, knowing her horse was safely inside it. She wondered who owned the ponies…

Two knocks and Eunice re-entered. "You must have really impressed the Madam." She wheeled in a small wooden cart. "I don't think she's ever gone to such lengths for a guest before."

Jude grinned. "Oh?" Eunice gestured to the cart. "Oh!" Baked chicken. Hard boiled eggs. Roasted potatoes. Long green beans. Tea. Underneath was a selection of soap, towels and toiletries. "Nice,"Jude said, biting an egg. "Eat, Eunice. I can tell they don't feed ya enough."

Eunice didn't argue. The room's table only had one chair. She shifted it to face the foot of the bed where Eunice took up Indian style. They ate directly from the cart, Jude propping long legs on the bed rail. "How long have you been here, Jude?"

"Almost two years now. You?"

"Maybe seven years?"

"Christ, Eunice. I'm sorry."

Eunice shrugged. "It wasn't so bad at first. When I was working in the mercantile. But last year, Mr. Ross died and the new boss wasn't keen on me. He put all his family in, and I didn't have a job. Or a place to stay. Mr. Ross had let me live in a little apartment upstairs."

"How the hell did ya end up in _this_ Hell?"

"Madam - Lulu, people call her - told me I could help out around the place. Feed horses. Clean up. Earn my keep, basically. Then after a few weeks...I realized I was going to be _this_." She gestured to herself.

"Eunice…"

"I didn't have a choice. I was stuck."

Jude leaned forward. "That bitch knew that. She took advantage. I got plans far her." More gunshots rang out. She glanced toward the window. "Far this whole godforsaken place."

Eunice fingered one of Jude's several gun belts now hanging on the bedpost. "How many guns do you carry?"

"Seven. Well, eight with the rifle, I guess."

Eunice looked slightly terrified. "Good God. Why, Jude?"

"Because I can't find a place far a ninth one." She wandered to the cart. "You drink?"

"I'm not allowed."

Jude scoffed and took a swig of whiskey. Passed the bottle to Eunice. "That's bullshit."

Eunice bit her lip, looking entirely too anticipatory for something obviously naughty, and took what must have been her first sip of whiskey. What followed was a coughing and retching fit the likes of which Jude had never seen. "Oh, Hell." She grabbed the bottle, securing it, and patted Eunice's back. "Maybe that was a bad idea, huh?"

Red faced and teary, Eunice nodded. Breathed deeply. "My life flashed before my eyes!"

Jude chuckled. Sighed. Flopped onto the bed. "I'm tired."

"Go to bed." Eunice stood. "I'll sleep on the chair."

"The fuck you will." Jude was turning down the blankets. "I don't think you'll be in any danger sleeping with me." She fluffed a pillow and settled in. "I _am_ a paying client, after all." Brow raised, she patted the place beside her.

Eunice blushed, a small smile. She blew out the table lamp, and brought over the smaller oil lamp. "Um...will you help me with this?" Showed Jude her back. "The laces."

Jude studied the corsetry for a moment, face screwed up charmingly. She'd never encountered something that complicated. "Do I just…?" She tugged the tie in the middle and watched Eunice sigh relief.

"Perfect." She slid the satin over skirted hips and stepped out of it. In the flickering lamplight, the thin chemise underneath showed off her fey curves and Jude tried to look away, swallowing. Eunice stepped out of her long skirt next, revealing equally thin bloomers. Tucked her shoes beneath the bed. She sat, removing the delicate pink knee socks before swinging into the thick feather mattress.

The night was warm. Neither of them felt inclined to pull up the quilt. Eunice turned to Jude, almost expected. "I've never slept with a woman before." She giggled.

"I doubt you did much sleeping anyway." Jude frowned.

Eunice bit her lip. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"It's not so bad, really. The girls teach you all the tricks, see." She grinned conspiratorially. "Usually, you get 'em so drunk they don't really know what's up, so to speak. Then, you can kind of bluff your way through the whole thing. See, there's a way you sort of lick your hand and put it down there." She gestured unnecessarily. "So when they -"

"I get it." Jude didn't really want the gory details. "Usually?" She asked softly.

Eunice's eyes downcast. "Yeah. You're not always so lucky."

Jude tilted her face up. "All that ends now. Hear me?"

Eunice nodded. "I figured there was something wrong with me. Most of the girls actually _like_ it. You know…"

"It can be nice." Jude allowed. "When it's welcome. And...I guess when ya actually care about who yar with. And that's how it should be." She smiled wistfully. "Actually, it's pretty damn great when it's like that."

The noise of the night - downstairs in the saloon and outside in the streets - bled into a cradling hymn. Cocooned them. They were safe from harm here together. Eunice was happy and fascinated, curious as ever. "What's it like being like a man, then? I mean, have you ever let anyone else know the truth?"

"Only one." Jude answered honestly.

"Was he your lover?"

A pause. Blinking. She considered lying, but couldn't. Eunice had been lied to enough. "She." Jude whispered. "And yes. She was my lovah. Briefly."

Eunice's eyes widened painfully. "A woman," she breathed, wondering. "A whore? Like me?"

"Yar not a fucking whore, Eunice!" Jude turned to face her fully. "Don't say that. But no. She wasn't a whore. It doesn't matter, right?"

"Did you love her?"

"Oh, God…" Jude groaned, wished she hadn't said anything. Should have lied. Although then she supposed she would just be lying more to satisfy Eunice's doubtless unlimited curiosity. "I cared far her, yes. We were...friends."

"What was her name?"

"Katherine."

"Was she pretty?"

"I thought she was, yes." Jude found it was fine to reminisce. "Some might have thought she was a bit plain, maybe."

"What'd she look like?"

There would be no rest until all was settled, Jude realized. So she took a deep breath and faced Eunice squarely. "She had brown hair and blue eyes. A round face and very pink cheeks. She was a young widow. Not too much oldah than you. We were on a wagon train togethah from Minnesota. I followed beside the 'stoga she was on, watching ovah her. It's hard for a woman to be in a train alone. She needed the help. One night we stopped to camp and she...brought me some soup. She thought I was a man. I could tell she'd...kinda fallen far me. I didn't want to deceive her, so I didn't say anything. For weeks, she fed me. Mended my clothes. Was kind ta me. And I...avoided her. Outside of Oklahoma, we got trapped by days of storms. She invited me into her wagon, outta the rain." Here, Jude sighed. Closed her eyes. "I damn well knew bettah, but I went in. We ate a little oatmeal and she...asked me if I thought she was pretty." She looked away.

"What did you say?" Eunice was on the edge of her pillow, tense with anticipation.

"I said 'Katie, I'm not what you think I am.' And I started to leave. Shoulda left."

"But you didn't."

"She grabbed me. She said...she said she knew. And she didn't care."

"She knew you were a woman!" Eunice smiled.

"She knew, yeah. She was smart. Figured me out somehow." Jude laughed softly. "And she didn't care. Quite clearly."

"You kissed." Eunice was blushing hotly.

"We kissed."

"And...other stuff?"

"Lots of othah stuff, Eunice." Jude turned away again. "Now. Let's go to sleep."

"Was it...nice?"

She stared at the ceiling. Sighed heavily. "It was..._very _nice. Turn down the lamp, Eunice. It's gettin' late."

But Eunice didn't turn down the lamp. And the conversation clearly wasn't over. "What happened to her?"

"She died. Fever took half the train. In Texas. There was nothing I could do."

"Jude." A soft hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Jude shook her head sadly. "It's funny...I nevah really mourned her. I think...I think I kept myself so disconnected from her because I knew somehow. I knew how fleeting it would be. Like, even if we could still be togethah...it would nevah be okay. Does that make sense?"

"I think it's how everyone lives in this place." Eunice shifted closer. "Because we're scared to love. Scared it will end. Or that we don't deserve it. I think I'm scared of that, myself. That I'm in this place because I don't deserve God's love. Or anyone else's."

"That's not true." Jude turned again suddenly. "Don't you dare think that, Eunice." She cupped the girl's jaw. "You were the purest, kindest, best soul I evah knew. That's why I couldn't believe I found you here. But I'll be _damned_ if I leave you ta rot, Eunice. And that's because _I _love you. I care about you. And you deserve that. Alright? You deserve peace and happiness just like -"

Eunice was kissing her so fast, Jude's head swam. When she was finally able to process, to react, she pushed gently against the jaw she cupped. But Eunice pushed back, increasing her force with Jude's until the older woman surrendered. Allowed herself to be pushed into pillows, straddled. Moaned as Eunice's curious tongue gained entry and stroked her own. The hand that had resisted against Eunice's chest now caressed it, gently kneading soft, small breast until Eunice broke away at last, gasping breath and sighing pleasure. "Oh, Jude…"

"Eunice, this is crazy!" Jude hissed. She stopped Eunice's hands when they started to remove the cotton chemise. "Quit now! Stop! You don't have to do this." A little struggle and suddenly Eunice slid Jude's hand beneath the chemise, pressing full flesh and hardened nipple into a calloused palm. "Eunice! Shit. You don't have ta do this. This - this isn't who ya are! Think far a minute. Calm the hell down!"

"Fucking touch me!" Eunice snapped, hushing argument. And Jude was quite honestly completely stymied. Shocked at this turn of events, at Eunice's colorful vernacular, at the eagerness of the girl and even more so at her own sudden, sinful and irresistible reactions; that they were _her_ shaking hands freeing the woman-child from her linen vestment, that _her_ arms pulled the angel close, _her _lips kissed salty, sloppy lips, _her _mouth arched the swan's neck, _her_ tongue laved and peaked those impossibly pink buds until the cool air knotted them deliciously, _her _body that rolled the yielding yearling beneath it.

Eunice's hands scrambled at Jude's back, bunching the oversized shirt. "Take this off! Take it off. Get it off," she muttered mindless until Jude complied, having to leave off the trail of delicious desire she was blazing down Eunice's creamy torso. "That's better. Oh!"

And it was a wonderful feeling - one Jude had nearly forgotten - the warmth and softness of breasts pressed against her own, the hot mouth at her ear, fingers stroking, searching, and seething at her flesh… "Where are you - ah!" Eunice was taken aback at her suddenly-lover's fingers tugging roughly at her bloomers. She boosted her hips up to help, an awkward tangle of legs and arms for a moment before - "What are you - ssssssss!" A hiss and tight moan of white-hot pleasure when Jude's mouth found her seeping center. "Ohhhh, sweet virgin, that's...God, Jude!" Her fingers clutched thick curls. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…" A mantra of wonder. She bucked against a skillful, knowledgeable tongue.

It was a remarkably powerful feeling, making Jude drunk on Eunice's pleasure. The girl was a loaded gun, cocked. She tasted of honey and innocence. It was easy to control her - a rough hold on her thighs, keeping her as steady as possible while Jude demanded her delight, swirling and suckling her clit. The magical organ swelled as though it had never been tended. And perhaps she'd truly never been properly tended at all, because within minutes Eunice was begging for she knew not what.

"Pleasepleaseplease, Jude." Eunice's fingers flexed in Jude's curls. She sweat. Her little toes curled painfully into Jude's ribs. "Please!"

"Whadda ya want, Eunice?" Jude kissed her abdomen, enjoying her frustrated mewl. A finger lightly stroked the hot, tight cunt. "Tell me, angel." The finger dipped, teasing, slicking wetness over that firm bud and back down.

"That!" Eunice thrust against the finger. "I want - I want your finger! Your fingers! I - I think!"

"Inside you?"

"God, yes!" Her eyes were half-mast but fire when she looked down at Jude. "Yes, please! _Please!"_

Her clit had grown too sensitive. Jude could tell at her whinge on the last tongue flick. It was a deeper pleasure her lover needed now, and the more experienced woman was excited by the challenge of delivering, of feeling smooth thighs quake around her arm. She slithered up Eunice's body as her fingers slithered inside that slick, searching cove.

Eunice's breath hitched on a cry. Jude nuzzled and spoke directly into her ear. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes." A simple, thready whisper. She caught Jude's lips in a kiss, breathed into her mouth.

Jude's fingers stretched, exploring, sought out that one place that felt just a little different - a little firmer. And when she found it, Eunice surged violently. "Oh, _fuck_!"

"Shhhh." Jude soothed, kissing lovely breasts. But her hand worked the antithesis of soothe - wreaking wet havoc between Eunice's thighs. "Spread yar pretty legs far me. Trust me, Eunice." She was a noisy swain, but a compliant one, lifting her leg and holding it so that Jude could slide one of her own against a sweaty thigh. "Good girl. Look at me." Eunice's lashes flickered, squeezing shut when Jude picked up the pace, stroked that spot a bit faster.

"Ugh!" Close to release, Eunice looked to Jude's hand, to its brilliant, dirty business. "God, Jude, I feel…"

"You feel what, Eunice?" Watching Eunice watch her work was thrilling. Jude felt her own desire burning, boiling in her belly. She pressed against Eunice's thigh, willing to stave off her own orgasm. Eunice gripped her own leg at the knee, holding herself open, stomach taut with whole body tension. Jude encouraged softly. "Let go, Eunice. I bet yar sweet when ya come. Come far me. Let me feel yar pretty little pussy pinch my fingahs."

"Oh! Jude!" Her arms clung tight around Jude's shoulders and she squeezed her thighs closed around Jude's arm. Tears ran from her eyes as she gave in to Jude's command, cunt clenching and quivering as orgasm took her control. Softly she whimpered as she came down, watched with lazy eyes as Jude licked her fingers clean.

"Mmm." Jude kissed her forehead. "I knew you'd be sweet."

"Jude…" Eunice kept an arm draped over Jude's shoulders as though scared she might pull away.

But Jude stretched against her bedmate with no intentions of losing contact. "Eunice," she replied, growling. Wrapped the other in her arms.

"That was…"

"Mm-hm." She turned Eunice's face toward her own. This sudden Sapphic proclivity intrigued her, and she wondered if it had always existed in her former sister of the cloth. "Anything ya wanna tell me?"

"I love you."

"Oh, Christ. Eunice…" Jude dropped her head into the crook of Eunice's neck. She took a deep breath. "We should probably - woah!"

"I think I always loved you." Eunice climbed over her quickly, hands simply everywhere, mouth spewing truth. "I always knew it was a sin. The things I felt, the things I wanted. I prayed and prayed and - do you like the same things you did to me?" Apparently, Jude's breasts were the most fascinating things she'd ever encountered.

Jude grabbed the grabby hands molesting her. "Eunice -"

"I'll just figure it out. That'll be fun!" Her head dipped, stopped Jude's lips with her own.

"Mmmm…" It was nice to be kissed. To be caressed and cherished. To be - "Mm! Eunice!" Jude broke away when Eunice's fingers slipped swiftly into the hot, wet cleft between her legs. She snatched blonde curls, hissed in Eunice's ear. "Yar playin' with fire, girl."

"So burn me." Eunice looked them explore. "I want to make you feel good, too." She straddled a strong thigh, her own moisture sticking, rose to her knees and stroked breast with one hand and cunt with the other. "Ohh, you're as wet as I was."

"Eunice…" She was the prettiest thing, skin all pink and dewy with sweat, long flaxen curls tumbling over perky tits. "God, yar beautiful." Jude whispered, stroking the slim hips straddling her thigh.

"You are, too," Eunice whispered back. "I want to taste you like you tasted me."

"Shit." Jude reached for her. Eunice's belly lurched when Jude's hand flattened against it. She pulled her lover close. "Do whatevah the hell you want," she rasped in her ear.

So Eunice licked - and sucked - and bit her way down Jude's taut form, enjoying the weight of larger breasts, the jut of a thick pelvic bone and finally the hell-hot center of what might have been pure lust. The less experienced woman's mouth was curious - almost too curious - and demanding. She was perceptive, knowing no tenderness was required or welcome from a hardened rider such as this one; she flattened her tongue and lapped firmly - long strokes. She sucked roughly, lips tugging the bud that made Jude buck like a Mustang pony.

And Jude encouraged the voracious indulgence, kneading pristine white shoulders and cursing persuasion past moans and cries of pleasure. "Fuck! Eunice, that's so goddamn good. Oh!" And the girl's fingers may have looked delicate but they were _not_. She thrust the digits into Jude's tight desire with no trace of shyness. "Yes! Christ, angel, there! Don't stop!" Jude panted, raising her free knee to shallow out the merciless plunging.

Perhaps recalling her own body's reactions, Eunice could tell the focus of stimulation had shifted. She kissed her way up Jude's thigh to her knee, watching her own hand's wet work unfold, watching her rescuer's body wrack and heave. Watched her long neck arch and tense. And she smirked knowing she caused the pleasure that suddenly seized her fingers - saw the reddened quim quiver and deliver thick, sticky spendings into her palm.

She slowed her ministrations in time with Jude's breath, following the woman's ebb and flow like a tide. "Amazing," she murmured.

Jude groaned, lowering her leg and stretching arms above her head. "Yeah," she breathed. Her cat eyes slit at Eunice, watching her ex-sister study her sticky fingers curiously. Jude chuckled. "Here." She pulled her towel from the bedpost.

"Mm-mm." Eunice had already licked her palm, the gesture lascivious. Lewdly she sucked her fingers clean, enjoying the surprise and appreciation on Jude's tired features.

"Well, then." Jude tossed the towel. "C'mere, honey."

Eunice crawled up the long torso to settle in Jude's arms. "You called me angel when we made love. I liked that."

"I'm not so sure you're an angel after what just transpired." Jude laughed, caressing the lovely body curled against her. "But I know far a fact ya taste like honey."

"Do I?" Eunice hummed into a sweet kiss.

"You do."

"Oh, Jude…" A soft sigh.

"What, angel?"

"I was so scared you wouldn't want me. You seemed so...hard. And cold." Eunice toyed with the pouch between Jude's breasts. "Like one of your guns."

"Well, it looks like ya softened me up."

"You even tasted like a gun." Eunice propped on her elbow, still holding the pouch unconsciously. "Did you know that?"

_How strange_, Jude thought. "No, I didn't know that." She stroked Eunice's face. "You don't have ta evah do that again, Eunice. If you didn't like -"

"I _loved _it." She pressed closer to Jude, going dreamy. "Like...hot iron and lust and...vengeance." Her fingers were absently rolling the pouch's contents.

Jude grinned. "Sounds about right."

"What's in here?" Eunice finally asked, perhaps just realizing she'd been toying with the little leather sack.

Jude's smile fell. "Three bullets," she answered, pulling the pouch back to her chest.

"Why?"

She sat up, reached for the little oil lamp and plunged them into darkness. "They're why I taste like vengeance." She rolled Eunice beneath her before any further conversation could spring. She didn't want to dwell on that now. Desert exhaustion had given way to a second wind of pleasure. Eunice's supple body was addictive - as well as her plaintive mewls and gasps for more.

Vengeance could wait for now. Jude had enough dealings with the Devil - in the past, and to come. Tonight, she only wanted the angel in her arms...


	3. Retribution One: Rabbit Heart

She woke to gunshots. Loud gunshots. Her hand was on a gun belt before she'd really even sat up in the quilt. Outside. It was outside. She sighed relief. Beside her, Eunice slept on peacefully. Dead to the violent west outside. Jude couldn't contain a smile as she settled back in the mattress. She'd finally managed to wear her young lover out the night before. And herself.

_What have I done now?_ She brushed a shank of blonde away from Eunice's smooth forehead. _Said I would never do this again...and I knew I should have stopped with this one. _

Because Eunice wasn't at all like Katherine. Eunice wasn't some stranger - arms easy to leave. Eunice was...Eunice. The little sister she'd worked so hard to protect, had tried so hard to save from the devil's grip. She wracked her brain, listening to the innocent's gentle snores, trying to recall _any _moment that could have revealed Eunice's true feelings toward her at Briarcliff. But nothing came to mind. Not a thing. If anything, she'd always believed Eunice had _feared_ her, or at least been intimidated. She could never have imagined…

But then, Jude had had her own impossible attraction to deal with at Briarcliff. A most misguided and sad one. She shook the thought from her head, fingers unconsciously stroking the pouch around her neck. _Let it go, Judy._

But she couldn't let it go. The anger. The hurt. Despite all her trying, the feelings had followed her after death, had crafted the restless soul she was now.

_Do I even have a soul now? _Eunice stirred. A tiny moan. Her hands shifted in the sheets until she encountered Jude's hip. A smile curled her Cherubic lips. Jude's eyes watered. _Yeah...I still have a soul. Goddamnit._

She stretched, slipping quietly from the bed. There were clean breeches and a black flannel in her saddle bags. She dressed just as quietly, tucking hair into hat. Two gun belts buckled. Shoulder holsters clipped. Leather tightened snug on her thigh, the Colt .45 there feeling like a friend. She was tying on a crisp black bandana when a sleepy voice shook her.

"Where are you going?"

"I got some business ta tend to."

"What kind of business?"

"The business kind." She looked at the drowsy angel propping elbows against the bedrail. "I'll be back soon. Go back ta sleep."

"I'll come with you."

"No, ya won't." She started for the door.

Eunice grabbed a gun belt. "You're going to talk to the madam, aren't you."

"Among othah things." Jude took the fey hand and pressed it to her lips through the bandana. "I want you ta stay here. Lock the door. And be safe."

Eunice was scrambling out of bed. "No. I'm coming with you. I know the madam. She can be a real bitch."

"She doesn't know what a real bitch is. Eunice. Go back ta bed."

"No!" The girl bounced about, hurrying into stockings and pantaloons. "You're not going to make me a prisoner in this room while you go out on adventures. I'm coming with you."

"Don't be stubborn."

"You're being stubborn!" Eunice fired back. She'd put on her chemise backwards and was awkwardly readjusting it. "I know all the people here. I can help you. I'm scared you'll just...shoot everybody."

"Would that be such a loss?" Jude watched her step into her skirt. "Look. Eunice. Yar better off up here. Out of sight and out of mind. I need ya ta trust me."

"So you can take off into the sunset without a glance back?" Eunice's cheeks were pink as she worked her way into the corset. "You told me last night I wasn't a whore. Why would you treat me like one now?"

The ire was quick, accusation bristling. Jude grabbed the youngling roughly. "How dare you." She growled. Eunice gasped. "Yar staying here because I have no intention of losing you today or evah, Eunice. And I won't risk the madam sendin' ya off to some othah bed. Hear me?" Eunice's crumbling face melted her. "Fuck. Eunice. Stop." She embraced the girl. "I didn't mean ta snap at ya."

"I just don't want to lose you!" Eunice wept. She clung to two gun belts. "Not when I just got you back. Jude, please!"

"Shit." Her mind worked. It was a quick mind. Pragmatic and calculating. She tugged her bandana down and tilted Eunice's chin up, a searing kiss. And with Eunice momentarily quieted, she was able to remove the long rustling skirt. Her fingers were demanding inside the linen lingerie, stroking softly, then more firmly, Eunice's already dripping core.

"Ah!" Eunice broke away, arching her neck to Jude's hungry mouth. "Oh, Jude…" Her knees trembled precariously and Jude swiftly set her on the bedside table, slipped between spreading legs. "God!"

"Feel good?"

"Yes!" She clawed at Jude's back through the black flannel. "So good!"

"Mm-hm. Gonna come far me?" Eunice groaned in reply, words failing when Jude slipped two fingers inside her. "Ya bettah. Come far me, angel." She bit the soft jaw. Sucked on the thin skin of Eunice's neck.

"Jude!" Panting. Gasping.

"How hard do I have ta fuck ya, Eunice? Huh?" She increased her elbow's pace. "This hard?"

When Eunice squealed pleasure, Jude arced her free hand across the girl's mouth. "Or harder." Eunice quivered, quaked when Jude's caress became a barrage. Her breathless moans were hot against Jude's ear and she clung to the two belts at Jude's waist, bringing the squeak of leather and the occasional jingle of bullet against steel. Jude worked her a little faster, introducing a third finger to the mix and wrenching her head back by her hair. It did the trick. Eunice's legs clenched in time with her cunt, bringing Jude flush with her now sweaty body.

She whimpered softly as she came down from the pleasure plateau and Jude peppered her neck with sweet soothing kisses. "Good girl," she praised. "Such a pretty lovah."

"Mmmmm." She was boneless when Jude pulled from the table. Giggled when her knees weakened.

"Whoa!" Jude lifted her bridal style. "Tired?" She deposited they fey form on their bed.

"Oh, Jude…" Eunice sighed as she stretched.

"Uh-huh." Jude smirked. "Go back ta sleep."

"Hmmmm." Eunice's eyes drifted closed and the gunslinger headed for the door. "Jude?" She turned at the tiny voice. "Will you solve all of our arguments that way?"

"Yep."

"Perfect." The girl slept.

Jude re-tied her bandana on the way down the saloon's stairs. She stepped gingerly through the typical pile of lazy whores, who looked up at her with flirtatious, knowing grins. Lulu was at the end of the bar, leaned into a conversation with the ruddy bartender. The man stroked his handlebar mustache, nodding at Jude past the madam who turned, beaming. "Well, stranger! Good morning! I hope." Jude tipped her hat to the bustling maven. "Cookie's whipped up a fine breakfast. Fresh eggs today from Mr. Sodder's chickens. Can I get a plate?"

"Latah." Jude leaned against the bar. "I got...some business mattahs ta discuss with ya, Madam."

"Hmph. I bet." The brunette giggled. "Unfortunately, I don't handle much of the business in this establishment beyond its...hospitalities. The proprietor is Mr. Lee."

"Then I suppose I need ta see Mr. Lee."

"He's an awfully busy man."

"So am I."

A measured stare. "I can try to arrange a meeting for you."

"Mighty appreciated." Jude accepted the whiskey set before her, un-requested. "Assure him I'll make it worth his while."

"I'm sure you will, stranger." Lulu left the bar, rustling toward a door beneath the stairs - presumably, an office. She knocked at the door before disappearing inside.

Jude used the dirty mirror behind the bar to take in the saloon's morning patrons. Most were eating. All men in various states of dust and dress. A few dirty prospectors. The polished ones - dapper in suits and watch chains - most likely investors in the fruits of the prospectors' labors. She sipped the offered whiskey. When the office door re-opened, she took in the proprietor's visage in the mirror.

Her chest seized. A furious sweat opened on her brown beneath her hat brim. Behind the bandana again, her jaw clenched. For a moment, her vision obscured - a red veil of blood falling. A claxon sounded in her head. She knew that man. Her fingers slipped easily, practiced, into the pouch around her neck. She could tell by feel - as if the etching there was a blind man's Braille - the single bullet required. Beneath the bar, she slipped it into the Smith & Wesson cold steel at her right. Her favored gun. Her favored hand. Her quickest, surest draw. She spun the revolver, knowing the sound of the single shot falling into place.

She knew that man.

He stretched a lazy stretch beside the madam. Jude felt his eyes on her at the bar, knew he would be curious about the bounty hunter requesting his time. His face was as sinister as ever, darkened by the desert sun. He was bearded now and burly. Comfortable. A fat rat big on misery. He adjusted his own gun belt - a single piece, she noted. Her eyes sized him up quickly, measuring plans like the most masterful tailor.

Her pulse roared in her ears when he stepped back into his office, nodding to the madam. Her blood turned to fire in her veins. She controlled the hatred, the seething vengeance that threatened to cloud her judgment. A deep, steadying breath when Lulu approached.

"Well, sir. You got our Mr. Lee's curiosities up right proper, it seems." She gestured to the office. "He'll see you right away."

Jude flipped a coin into the air, watched the bartender catch it with a grin. "I thank ya, Madam." Her voice was hard with intent. Spurs rang as she walked the paces to the door marked 'Private'. One pace. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

An unlucky number. But not for her. She opened the door without knocking. A waft of retribution seduced her nostrils as she closed the door behind her, subtly locking it. The office was dark - the sole window covered by a set of brown, calico curtains. They lilted in the lazy morning breeze that cooled her raw fury. Her boots muffled on the fine Persian rug that spread from wall to wall.

"Well, well, well." Leigh Emerson sat behind his desk, feet propped languorously on the dirty blotter there. "If it ain't the mysterious gunslinger." He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "I'll admit I'm intrigued." Jude sat, crossing one leg over the other and managing to control the shake of anger. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unscheduled business meeting my dear Lulu speaks of?" From a drawer in his desk, he extracted a bottle. "And um...as I'm a true gentleman (her nostrils flared), I'll offer you a draw of a fine bourbon." He extended the bottleneck. Smoothly, Jude accepted it, glove squeaking against the glass. "Better than the rotgut behind the bar. But...I imagine you know something of a good bourbon. Lulu tells me you have quite the coin to jangle." A barely there nod from Jude. "Awfully quiet, fellah. Gonna be hard to get any business done if you ain't one to speak."

"I want the little whore. Eunice."

"Oh, I see." Surprise shifted his bushy dark brows.

"And a pony far her." The cork plopped satisfyingly when she opened the bourbon. Took a swig. It _was _as good as he claimed.

"Hmmm." Mr. Lee - Leigh, as Jude knew him - toyed with a letter opener on his desk. "I'm sure you'll comprehend I stand to make more money offa that girl by keepin' her. She's gettin' better at what she does." Jude's hand shifted on her gun. Just barely stroking the cold steel. "As you musta noticed for yourself." He considered. "But I'd be willin' to...negotiate. If the price is right." He chuckled. "Though the pony might be worth more than the pussy."

Jude swallowed bile. "I don't intend ta pay far either."

He blinked, preparing to laugh. "Pardon, stranger? I don't think I heard ya right."

"Are ya deaf _and _stupid?" Jude asked calmly.

His legs whipped to the floor and he stood quickly. "I hope you're making a joke and not a mistake right now, motherfucker." Emerson's voice was a threatening growl. "Cuz I've wasted my fair share of ignorant gunslingers who thought they had some kinda power."

"Thought?" Jude asked. She set the bourbon back on his desk. "Well, there's the difference between them and me. They _thought _they had some kinda power. Whilst I _know _I do."

A sick smirk revealed his rotten teeth. "And just what kinda power do you have there? Huh? The power to collect guns?"

"I have the power to reap souls."

Fat hands on his desk, he leaned toward her. The grandfather clock ticked loudly behind them as he studied her. "What a peculiar piece of shit you are," he murmured. "Do I know you, you crazy son of a bitch?" His head tilted. Black eyes squinted. "Something about ya…"

"I know you, Leigh Emerson." Her gravelly voice allowed.

"You're playin' some kinda game, you dumb bastard. And I don't like games."

"It's no game."

Emerson was frustrated. Less able to hide those emotions than Jude was. "So what the fuck you doin' here? Huh?" He snapped, arms wide. "Speak your goddamn mind!"

"I'm here to send yar soul to its proper place."

"And what place is that?"

"Hell."

"So you get to judge me vile enough for Hell? You're full of shit, stranger. Who gives you the authority -"

"Seven nuns."

He paled at the reference. "Who the fuck -" His hand was quick on his gun but hers was quicker.

She was quicker period, fueled by justice. She was on his desk in a heartbeat, boot shoving him into his chair. His gun fired into the ceiling and she grabbed that wrist, twisting it as she jumped down to straddle his knee. He cried out in pain when she wrenched the pistol free, hurled it into the grandfather clock. Glass shattered splendidly.

There was a lot to be said for the element of surprise.

"Who the fuck am I?" She hissed. A ruckus started outside, Lulu banging on the door, calling out to her boss. He couldn't answer. The thick barrel of a Colt .45 was shoved into his throat, causing him to gag. He'd raised his hands above his head, recognizing he was in the vulnerable position now. Jude released his shirt from her fist long enough to rip her bandana from her face.

"Huuuuugggh!" The recognition - the sudden fear in his eyes - was sumptuous. She salivated, felt a smile curlin her lips.

"Miss me, Santa?" She wrapped her gloved hand around his throat - could feel the muscles there spasming around her piece. "I'm afraid I've been...a very bad girl this year." He vomited, choking on the chunky puke. "Ugh!" Jude exclaimed. "Ya stink, Leigh."

"I'm comin' round to the window, boss man!" Lulu shouted outside. "There better not be any trouble in there!"

"Damn," she growled. "Wish we had more time ta catch up." His thick hands pawed at her shoulders now, but she was unshakable. "But...I gotta itchy triggah fingah, anyway." His eyes widened impossibly further and he gurgled desperately when she plunged the gun deeper. "Have fun in Hell, ya worthless sack of waste."

The .45 has a deafening report, especially in close proximity. It made Jude's ears ring, but she knew it would pass. What might not pass was the violent, vibrant explosion of brains, blood, and vomit. It splattered her face, her hand, the walls, the lazily lilting calico curtains.

The gun smoked. It was hot in her hand and coated in blood and God knew what else. And yes, God knew. She slid off of the corpse slowly, taking in the unrecognizable fragment of face leftover. Leigh Emerson was no more. Something squished beneath her boot. She looked down. An eyeball, staring up at her. Expressionless, she put all of her weight on the organ, ground it into the rough pine plank.

"Mr. Lee! Mr. Lee?" The fat madam was scrambling to climb into the open window.

Jude rolled her eyes, calmly readjusting her bandana. She offered arms to the Madam, helping her into the office. Honestly it was hilarious to watch her satin wrapped rump roll over the sill and Jude contained a chuckle.

"What's happened?" The old whore pushed up from all fours, dusting her attire and looking around frantically. "What's going on in here? I heard gun fire and - Oh!" She screamed, finally seeing Emerson's steaming corpse behind its desk - hands still clawed around ghostly shoulders. "Oh God above!" She staggered, and Jude steadied her from behind. "Ahhh!" She screamed again, whipping away from Jude. "You! You - you killed him! You're a murderer! Help! Heeeeelp! A murder-" Her plaintive cry was cut off by a gloved hand shoving her into the dessimated grandfather clock.

"Shut yar fat goddamn mouth." Jude pressed the now empty Colt against Lulu's temple. The madam didn't have to know the gun was empty, and the ploy worked. She gripped the edges of the clock behind her, trembling uncontrollably and whimpering. It was a vast improvement on the screaming. "Bettah." Jude sighed, removing her bandana to wipe blood and bone and...other stuff from her face. Seeing her face at last, Lulu's whimper caught in her throat.

"Oh, Christ!" She whispered. "You're a -"

"Yes, a murderah. You've made that clear." Jude shoved the bandana into her back pocket.

"I was...I was gonna say woman." Lulu whispered.

"Oh." Jude shrugged. "That, too. But that's our secret, right?" She cocked the empty gun. Tears squeezed from Lulu's screwed shut eyelids as she nodded. "Good. We have an understanding. Let's have another understanding, huh? Or maybe a few understandings. Cuz I'll be honest: I don't wanna kill a lady. And ya _are _a lady, aren't ya, Lulu?" Another tight nod. "Perfect." She lowered the hammer on the gun, spinning it into its holster.

Lulu remained frozen against the clock, watched Jude round Emerson's desk. With a disgusted scowl, she dumped his corpse unceremoniously from its chair. It clunked on the hollow floor, bent ass up, and Jude propped her boots on it when she sat. On the desk was an ornate wooden box. Inside, she found a crop of tightly rolled cigars. "Mmm." Biting the end off one, she lit it with the brass table lighter nearby. "Nice," she breathed on a puff of smoke. Opened the bourbon next. "Sit down. Yar makin' me nervous." She pointed to the leather chair she'd occupied earlier. Lulu practically scrambled into it. Jude gave the whore a moment to settle, mouth still working fear. "Alright?" She asked. At the whore's nod, Jude smiled. "Good. First of all, please allow me to extend my deepest condolences on the loss of yar beloved Mr. Lee. I'm afraid we had...an irreconcilable disagreement." She flicked cigar ash onto the body beneath her feet. "Mainly, he reckoned he was worth a shit, and I reckoned he wasn't. So." A smirk. "I settled our disagreement. Permanently." A tiny meep from the madam. "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm takin' Eunice. Not because she belongs ta me, or because I bought her freedom, but because she _deserves_ her freedom. As do the other poor beleaguered girls out there flippin' their bodies far two bits a night. But that's none of my business." Jude puffed the cigar. "That's now _yar _business. I highly recommend ya work out some sort of contract situation with them that will benefit both parties from here on out. Because I think ya might have just won yarself a promotion, Lulu."

"A - a promotion?"

"Evah wanted ta own a saloon?"

"You mean this place?"

"Is there anothah hotbed of sinful iniquities in town that I don't know about?"

"Well...no." Lulu shook her head.

"Then, yes. This place."

"I wish it was that easy, stranger."

Jude blew a smoke ring. "Why isn't it?"

Lulu shivered. "Stranger. You don't know what kinda trouble you done bought yerself. You think Mr. Lee was the only shareholder in this venture?" She shook her head. "There's a passle of six of the most sordid sons of bitches you could imagine just waitin' for their chance ta take over this joint. The Johnson boys. All a buncha wretched no good wretches who pretty much run this whole town. And I imagine they'll be comin' for you pretty quick once they find out you done taken out their leader."

"Good." Jude grinned. "I hope they all come at once. I'd hate ta waste precious time huntin' 'em down."

"They're fierce gunfighters!"

"Fun." Jude shrugged. "Are ya refusin' my generous offah?"

"Stranger. If you can take out the Johnson boys, I'll promise ya Eunice and however many of them ugly, stinkin' ponies you can fit in yer pocket once I'm the new proprietor of this shit hole."

"This shit hole doesn't need a new proprietor." Jude kicked Emerson's body over on the elaborate carpet with a thud. "It needs a new rug." She stubbed out the last of the cigar, rising. "I'm glad ta see we have a deal."

"Stranger?" She turned at the door, re-covering her face as the madam spoke. "You oughta know. One of them Johnson boys I was tellin' you about? He's the sheriff."

"Interesting." Jude tisked. "Ya can send up that breakfast now. Far me and Eunice. Along with my laundry. I need ta get out of these bloody things."

"Will do, stranger." The madam rose stiffly, peering over the desk at the corpse she would have to clean up.

"And Lulu. When the Johnson boys come, ya can send far me."

Eunice was awake when Jude returned. Very awake. "What happened?" She demanded. "I heard gunshots!" She wrapped Jude in a relieved embrace. "I was so scared something foul had befallen you! I was about to come down there despite what you said! Jude, don't scare me so! Don't leave me again! I can't take it!" She pulled back suddenly, gripping Jude's shirt and pulling at her bandana. "Who did you kill? Whose blood is this? Please tell me you didn't kill Lulu. I know she's a bitch, but she's in just as bad a situation as we are! She's trying! And -" she sniffed, nose wrinkling adorably. "What the hell do you reek of? God, you stink! You smell like somebody puked in a rotten goat carcass!"

"Eunice."

"What?"

"Why didn't ya tell me Leigh Emerson was the owner of this saloon?"

"Leigh...Leigh Emerson." Eunice blinked, a hand slowly covering her mouth. "Mr. Lee… Oh, Jude! I didn't know! You have to believe me! I never even met the owner! He did all of his business with us girls through the madam. I only ever saw him coming or going and I didn't really get a look at him." She shook her head, stunned. "Leigh Emerson." Her eyes were wet when she looked back at Jude's understanding face. "You...you killed Leigh Emerson, didn't you?"

Jude nodded, removing gun belts and bloodied garments. "I sent his soul to Hell. Where it belongs."

Eunice sat on their bed, numb. "Three bullets," she whispered, nodding. "Does this mean there are only two now?"

"Yep." Jude stretched, flannel hanging loose on her shoulders. "Eunice. Breakfast is being sent up. I'm starvin'. And I'd like a bath befar we eat."

"You need one." She still seemed troubled, trying to smile past a worry.

"Take one with me?"

Eunice's face brightened. "We can bathe together?"

"You can do whatever you want now, angel." Jude was stripping in the bathing partition. "Yar a free woman."

The girl flew through the swinging door, nearly knocking Jude over with the sudden embrace. "I'm free?"

"As a bird."

Her lip trembled when she looked up from Jude's cleavage. "You mean...you bought me."

"No." Jude stroked the delicate cheek. "Yar not a thing ta be bartered, Eunice. Nevah again."

"I love you, Jude."

"Don't be misguided." Jude whispered. "I was a dirty sinnah in life, Eunice. And I'm an even dirtier sinnah now. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that."

But the bounty hunter couldn't hide what was in her heart. The doubt. The fear that this existence of retribution had forever marred what might be left of her soul. How to express that to a thing as beautiful, as pure, as the creature in her arms now? "Well...I'm at least dirty."

Eunice took a deep breath. She could feel all of the unsaid like a great weight of water - or a river rushing so strong the current couldn't be forded. She wondered if she wouldn't drown in Jude's mystery. But her love was so deep, she wouldn't mind the sinking. She opted (for now) to float. "I'll get us some hot water."

"What do you want to do?" Eunice asked. "After you know...your bullets are used up. Ow!"

Jude chuckled, tightening her grip on Eunice's slippery foot. "Hold still! I'm tryin' ta clip this nail and I'm gonna keep knicking you until you settle yar ass down."

"My feet are ticklish!"

"Everything on you is ticklish." Jude managed to clip the nail on Eunice's big toe.

"You avoided my question."

"No, I didn't."

"Well, you didn't answer it."

Jude shifted in the bath, taking up Eunice's other foot. They faced each other in the big brass tub, sharing much needed pedicures. "I don't know." She stared at Eunice's little toes. "I don't know what happens aftah I use the last bullet."

"Will you tell me the names?" Eunice nudged the pouch on Jude's chest with a groomed toe.

"No." Jude faced her. "I don't want you involved in this...whatevah it is."

"Involved." Eunice repeated. She was twisting her wet washed hair into a braid. "I think I'm already involved."

"No, yar not."

"I"m involved with you." The smaller blonde whispered.

"That's different." Clip.

"Jude."

Clip. "What?"

"What will you do with me?"

Sigh. Jude discarded the nail clipper on the soap rack. "What do _you_ want, Eunice?"

"I want to be with you."

It was such an earnest answer. "What did you want before me? What was yar fantasy befar I showed up?"

Eunice looked down, toying with the end of her braid. Jude rubbed her foot leisurely, waiting. "It's pretty stupid. Ow!"

"Don't say that." Jude let up the tickling, but didn't release the foot. "Nothin' about ya is stupid. Tell me."

"I wanted to have a farm."

"How is that stupid?" Jude asked. "Farms are an integral part of life. We could use more of 'em. Cows and chickens and-"

"Rabbits!" Eunice brightened. "I just want rabbits."

Jude held back a smile. "Just rabbits."

"The ones with floppy ears."

"I don't suppose ya intend ta raise these rabbits far food."

"Nooo!" Eunice cried. "I'm just going to pet them and squeeze them."

"Rabbits are delicious." Jude nipped a toe.

"Stop!" Eunice splashed her. "You can't eat my bunnies. Or my toes!"

"Your toes are delicious, too."

"Gross!" But Eunice was giggling, gasping when Jude licked the side of her foot. "You licked my foot!"

"I'm gonna lick somethin' else."

"What's that?" But Eunice was already breathing heavy, anticipation pinking her up. "Ah!"

Swiftly, Jude grabbed her at the knees, pushing her up the back of the tub until she perched on the wide rim. "Somethin' more delicious than bunnies." She kissed the crease of Eunice's dripping thigh.

"Oh, Jude…" Pale fingers gripped wet curls and for the moment, rabbits and farms and futures were forgotten.

She couldn't tell Eunice - for some reason - that beyond guns and revenge and Godless missions in Purgatory, the thought of green pastures and rabbits was the most appealing thing she'd heard in her entire life. That past the vision of Leigh Emerson's destroyed head was a vision of Eunice: barefoot in a white dress, smiling on a fresh pine porch, holding a flop-eared rabbit.

How could peace seem so close - as close as the angel shuddering in her arms - and yet so far away? Why couldn't she let go of the revenge and embrace the happiness that Eunice offered?

Breast to breast, they let the drink swallow them in their kiss. Sank into the water until it baptized them. But Jude felt keenly that she was sinking far deeper into something more, into something blissful, into Eunice.

The peace cried out to her. She longed for it. Eunice promised it with the love she gave so freely. But as surely as she could feel tranquility flirting with her fingertips, Jude knew the overpowering truth that daunted her: that she could have the serenity, yes…

But it meant there would be Hell to pay.


	4. Raise a Little Hell

"What's this?" Eunice leaned on her elbow at the table, picking up parts one by one as Jude cleaned her guns.

"That's the cylinder." Jude took the piece, brushing it briskly. She loved the smell of gun oil...

"Oh. And this?" Her lover pointed.

"The loading lever."

"This thingy?"

"Latch pin."

"These little doodads?"

"Those are the nipples."

Eunice giggled. "I like your nipples."

Jude smirked, dropping her brush for the moment. "Why are you like this?"

"What's this?"

"The hammer."

"That's how you cock it."

"Yep."

A chuckle. "Cock."

"I'm gonna wash yar mouth out with soap."

"My mouth is squeaky clean, thank you."

"The Hell it is. Here. I'll show ya how to put this back togethah."

"When do we put _us_ back together?" Eunice ran a stockinged foot up Jude's boot.

"Yar some kinda damn succubus," Jude grumbled.

"Can we go out?" Eunice asked. "Now that I'm a free woman?"

"Where ya wanna go?"

A shrug. "I don't know. I don't even care. I just wanna walk around town with a tall sexy gunslinger."

"Well, when I find one of those I'll let ya know." Jude spun a cylinder back into place. "Can ya shoot, Eunice?"

"No."

"Get dressed. We're goin' out."

The stables were clean and dark. Eunice smiled as she patted each horse face in turn, speaking to some of them familiarly. She'd pilfered some carrots from the kitchen and fed a few of the happy beasts.

Jude's horse was in the farthest stall. She was pleased to see he'd been brushed and from the looks of it - well fed. "Hello, friend," she greeted the stallion quietly. He bent his head for a stroke, and Eunice thrust a carrot into his mouth. "Don't spoil him!" Jude admonished jokingly.

"He loves it!" The horse grunted in agreement, chomping loudly. "He's huge," Eunice breathed.

"He's a big enough fella."

"What's his name?"

"Michael."

Eunice smirked while Jude saddled the stallion. "That's an awfully Biblical name from a woman who isn't a sister anymore."

"Made sense at the time."

"Are we going for a ride?"

"We are."

"Will we both fit on that saddle?" Eunice looked doubtful.

"No." Jude smiled behind her bandanna. She turned and gestured to the full stalls. "Which one is yar favorite?" Eunice blinked. "It's yars. Whichevah one ya want. Part of my...deal."

"_Mine_?" At Jude's nod, Eunice gaped. "My own horse?"

"Yar own horse."

"Oh. My. God." There was purpose in the younger woman's step. She _did_ have a favorite. Jude followed her, leading the pitch stallion in her wake. "This one. Her name is Josephine."

"She's a beauty." Josephine was a Palomino. Young. Still a filly at 14 hands high. Jude could see why Eunice liked the creature. It nuzzled her lovingly, batting those singular pale lashes. "Seems to have yar temperament." She pulled Josephine's saddle from the stall wall and set about readying her. "You do know how to ride, right?"

"Of course I do." Eunice looked down at herself. "Well...at least side saddle I do."

"We'll fix that latah." Jude patted the saddle. "Climb up."

They trotted out of town. Past the post office. Past the library. Past the dusty, sad farms and empty-eyed children. The Palomino kept up well enough for her size, spirited and obviously excited to be free of the stable. Just like Eunice, Jude supposed. The girl was all smiles, curls bouncing against her shoulders. Jude had bought her a tan duster at the mercantile, and she made a pretty picture on the similarly colored horse.

Near the cemetery, they stopped. "Why are we here?" Eunice asked, dismounting into Jude's waiting arms.

"Target practice." Jude gestured to the numerous scattered vases and bottles - forgotten offerings to the dead that once held the rare desert flower.

Eunice squealed excitement, reaching for the Smith and Wesson Jude pulled from her thigh holster. "I'm gonna shoot things!"

"Calm down, cowgirl!" Alone, away from prying eyes, Jude removed her bandana, revealed a happy smile. "We're gonna take this real slow."

"I love when we go real slow." Eunice slipped past the gun for a kiss.

"Ah-ah-ah." Jude pressed a finger to the plump pink lips. "I tell ya what." She pressed the gun into Eunice's wandering hand and turned her. Lips against the shell of Eunice's ear, she spoke. "Far every bottle you hit...I'll give ya a kiss."

"A long kiss?"

"Probably not."

"With tongues or without?"

"Jesus Christ, Eunice. Hold the damn gun up!" Laughing, Eunice raised the silver steel. It glinted in the sun. "Firm up yar stance." Jude adjusted elbows, nudged thighs apart. "Like this. Ya wanna have complete control over it."

"Jude," Eunice whispered.

"What?"

"This is _so_ fucking hot."

Jude sighed. "Pull the hammer back, will ya? We're gonna aim far that green bottle over there." She pointed. "Now, when ya fire, it's gonna give ya a little kick back. Not a lot, but enough ta feel it. That's why ya wanna have a good, solid grip and a hard arm. Right?"

"Right."

"Take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

"Kay."

"Aim down the barrel until the bottle is centered in the sight. Got it?"

"I think I've got it." Eunice squinted one eye. "I'm ready."

"Then squeeze the triggah."

The Smith and Wesson wasn't quite as loud as the Colt, but it had a definite ring to it. Eunice squealed at the report, shoulders jolting when she fired. But she nailed the bottle - it shattered beautifully. Jude whistled. "Yar gonna be a force to be reckoned with."

"Beginner's luck?" Eunice's voice trembled. Her whole body shivered.

"Or yar just a Hell of a shot." Jude rubbed her student's arms through the duster. "You okay?"

Eunice turned her head and - as promised - accepted her kiss. A short one. No tongue. She hid her disappointment. "I wanna do it again."

"Empty the barrel, everything ya can. I'll teach ya ta re-load next." With the proper encouragement, Eunice was a deadeye.

They were eating hard boiled eggs and sandwiches in the shade of a massive saguaro when Eunice hesitantly broached her topic of interest. "Jude."

"Hm?"

"I wanna leave here."

"Course ya do."

"I want to go with you."

"That's the plan."

"Is it really?" She stared at a skittering lizard a few feet away, eyes daring to hope but not too hard.

"Eunice." Jude dusted crumbs from her breeches. "I have no intention of leaving you here in this hell hole."

"I thought...because of the horse and all that...that you were just going to sort of...free me. You know? Leave me to my own devices."

"Well." Jude looked away, too. Chewed on her lip. "Eunice. I think I need you."

"Need me?"

It wasn't exactly what the girl wanted to hear and Jude knew that. And _need _wasn't exactly the word that Jude wanted to say. But that other word was so difficult. So laced with risk. And the last time - in another life - that Jude had dared to utter the word had ended in naught but devastation for herself.

She wasn't ready for that word. And Eunice seemed somehow to understand. She laid her head on Jude's shoulder. "I think I need you, too."

"We're both fucked, then." They laughed, Eunice playfully punching Jude's thigh. "Hey."

"What?"

"Pull yar skirt up."

A scandalized hand flew to Eunice's chest. Not that she would refuse or remotely deny the desire. "Here? Now?"

"Yeah. C'mon."

Licking her lips eagerly, Eunice complied, even making a comfy little bivouak for herself out of her new duster. But… "Oh."

Jude chuckled after she strapped the holster to Eunice's thigh. "Sorry ta disappoint." She slipped the Smith & Wesson into place. Eunice flinched at the stroke of cold steel. "There."

"Is it mine now?"

"Yeah. Listen, Eunice. I may have gotten in some trouble with a couple locals. And I'm not worried about myself so much as I am you. So if anybody tries ta start any shit with you…"

"I don't know if I could shoot a person, Jude."

"You could if yar life was in danger. Or if they were threatening somethin' important to ya." Jude stroked a blonde curl from a worried face. "And yar a damn fine shot, so I know you wouldn't have ta worry about a fight."

"Maybe I could just maim somebody." Eunice flicked the safety on, looking at the shiny apparatus against her creamy thigh. "Like...I could shoot out his knee. Or his dick."

"Yar a savage." Jude smirked, standing. "Come on. Let's get back to tha saloon. And I'll make ya pull that skirt up far real." She replaced her bandana and they mounted their horses, riding off into the sunset.

But back at the saloon, there was trouble brewin'. Lulu rushed out to meet them at the watering trough. "Stranger. I told ya." She bustled up, taking no note of Eunice standing nearby. "The Johnson boys are here. All six of 'em including the sheriff. They been waitin' real impatiently almost two hours now ta meet ya."

"Patience is a virtue of kings, Lulu." Jude handed the madam two sets of reins. "Stable our horses."

"You're crazy, woman!" Lulu hissed secretively into Jude's ear. "Those fellas in there will take you out faster than -"

"Know what?" Jude cut her off, snatching the reins back. "Eunice, you stable Michael and Josephine. Feed 'em and brush 'em down."

"No!" Eunice thrust the reins back to Lulu. "I'm coming in there with you! I know how to shoot, Jude! You taught me. I'm not gonna let a bunch of hooligans ambush you and -"

"I don't wanna argue about this, Eunice." Jude's voice was tight.

So was Eunice's. "Me, either."

"Please." Jude tried reason this time, and gentleness. She caressed Eunice's shoulders. "Please, Eunice. Put the horses away. This might not even be anything dangerous. I just don't want all these men getting ideas or designs on you. Understand me?"

"But -"

"And...I need you. Right?"

Eunice's lips tightened. She wanted to argue. She watched the madam shift nervously from foot to foot. She watched Josephine's blonde tail flick at a yellow jacket. Finally, she let out a deep breath. "I understand."

"Thank you, angel." Jude handed her back the reins. "I promise ya everything will be fine." Even the madam smiled tightly at the girl. Eunice nodded, and the two women watched her disappear around the corner of the saloon. "Alright." Jude grinned behind the pitch bandana, mounting the steps. "Let's raise a little Hell."

Sheriff Jack Johnson didn't look anything like Jude expected. For one thing, he was rather short. At least five inches beneath her in bootheels. He also sported a thin, greasy moustache that nearly masked a scarred top lip. He turned from the bar when the madam bustled in ahead of Jude. "_This _is the son of a bitch that took out Lee?" He gestured to Jude. "What are you? The fuckin' midnight rider?" The five boys crowded behind him laughed heartily at the joke. "Skinniest bounty hunter I ever saw."

Jude only loosely called them boys. They stair-stepped in both height and age. The tallest one probably forty and the shortest one still a damn child. Although, from the look on his face, you'd think he was the only man in the room. She knew false bravado when she saw it.

"You speak, chicken shit?" Jack advanced a few steps, swinging his duster aside to reveal a gold sheriff's star on his vest. "You think you can just come in here and kill aman and take over his rightful and lawful business? It don't work that way.I'm the sheriff in this town, you kin? I'm the word _and_ the fuckin' law!" He hurled his shot glass very suddenly at Jude's feet. It shattered, and patrons scattered, tables and chairs jarring noisily. When she didn't flinch, he took offense. "Goddamit, you take that tarp offa your face and look at me like a man when I kill you!" The five boys stepped out behind him, fanning into a support wave.

Jude was making calculations when she heard a gun draw.

Heard.

Her eyes tracked the source quickly - second one from the left. And almost before she thought the thought, her own piece was out. A shot exploded the tension in the air. There were screams as the building emptied.

And all Hell broke loose. Whores evacuated, taking to the stairs or the back door. Gamblers, prospectors, and all other manner of patron followed, or flooded over one another shoving and scrambling through the swinging doors. Their heavy steps clattered around the building and thudded into the streets.

But before that first Johnson hit the floor - a neat hole right in the center of his forehead - five other Johnsons drew guns.

Jude drew her other Colt, firing both as she spun across the room. She felt the heat of a shot zing past her ear and kicked over a table, crouching behind it. There was groaning and yelling, a sure sign she'd hit at least one more of them. The impact of a bullet hitting the table at her back reminded her they were still advancing.

She hooked a boot in the rungs of a nearby chair and kicked up blindly, sending the furnishing flying overhead. "Shit!" It hit a mark - a good distraction - and she leapt to her feet, one leg flipping the table onto its edge to give her a bird's eye view over the smoke. Her duster whirled around her as she emptied the two cylinders, quickly dropping them to draw another two. No time to reload.

She was down to three Johnsons now, one injured in his shoulder and limping for cover. The sheriff had unloaded, as well, it seemed, now pulling a rifle from his back. She barreled toward him before he could aim, managing to knock him onto his back only to feel strong hands wrestling at her arms.

Suddenly she was gripped by two lackeys - the middle boys, one of the weak from his wounds - both struggling to disarm her, both bloody with blood theirs or their comrades. "Gotcha now, fucker!" One exclaimed. She could smell his rotten breath.

"Looks that way, don't it?" She gritted her teeth against coming pain and simply fell backward, wrenching her arms and shoulders to bend, muscles burning, until the idiots crashed into one another. "But looks can be deceiving." She flipped the Colts clutched in her hands and pistol whipped the cowboys at the base of each thick skull. They crumpled to the floor - not quite unconscious, but grasping the backs of their heads and groaning.

Jack Johnson still stood, managing to level his shotgun now that he could get a bead on her. But not today.

She flipped the pistols again, firing into his gut with one and his shoulder with the other. His shotgun fired, and she felt the sting of scattered shot against her neck, but his aim was thrown too much to find a solid target. She watched him drop to his knees, hands at his wounded gut.

The room was a blur of smoke. It reeked of blood, gun powder, adrenaline and fear. Jude stepped over the lackeys, calmly taking them out with two clean headshots. Their incessant, irritating whines and groans immediately ceased. It was a mercy killing, she thought. They'd have awful headaches later…

"Well, Sheriff." She was winded, standing over the bleeding, writhing man. "Yar in quite a pickle, aren't ya?" Kneeling, she flicked his hat from his head. "Gut shots are the worst. But...I don't think you got any guts, anyway." He coughed blood. It spattered her boot. "Disgusting." She used his duster to wipe it clean. "I think we're done here."

Something dark swelled inside her. It always did at this moment: the moment when she pressed the barrel of the Colt to a sweating temple. The power tingled in her arm, down to her trigger finger. Her pulse hummed in her head, drowning out the report. This was a cleaner shot than Leigh Emerson had been. A nice round hole and a bullet that passed straight through tiny brain. Ridiculously, she hoped Lulu would be pleased there was less mess.

But then she stood and looked around.

Overturned tables. Broken chairs. A mess of glasses and shattered bottles. Five dead gunslingers in various spreading pools of filth. In the odd silence, she could hear liquor dripping onto the floor behind the bar. "Damn." She supposed there would be a mess to clean up, after all.

Wait.

She tensed, glaring. Five dead gunslingers. A quick assessment. Where was the child, then?

A thick sniffle behind the bar answered her question. Her spurs jingled as she made her way over, kicking or stepping on bodies. The boy cowered behind the bar, as far underneath it as he could squeeze.

"Look here, son." She crouched, used a Colt barrel to tilt his chin up. There was blood spatter on his face - not his, she imagined. "What'd you get yarself into today?"

"P-p-please…" He stammered. His hat fell over his eyes and he scrambled to shove it back.

His eyes were crystal blue. His plump bottom lip would have made a charming smile. But as it was, snot dripped from his nose into his mouth and those pretty blues were bloodshot from tears. "You pleadin' ta me? Or God, boy?"

"Y-you!"

"How old are ya?"

"T-t-t-twelve, sir!"

Jude scoffed, pulled the Colt out of the child's face. "Twelve." She repeated, standing. "Go home, boy. Pray ta God. And tell yar mama ya love her."

She turned to leave, but froze in her tracks when she saw the madam standing at the end of the bar. "Lulu." Jude holstered her guns. Lulu did _not _look happy.

"So, stranger." Her hands left her thick hips to gesture around the room. "Ya give me a bar just to shoot it the hell up and litter it with corpses? Who the fuck is gonna clean this mess up?"

There was a bottle of bourbon on its side - intact - spinning slowly. Jude picked it up. Flipped a shot glass. "Lulu. I apologize far -"

A sharp gasp from the madam caught her attention and she followed the woman's manic gaze. The boy stood now. She hadn't heard him rise. Hadn't heard him draw. Hadn't heard him breathe. And yet he pointed the barrel of a .45 right at her face. She could see straight into that barrel, and the blackness there was eternal.

Her hands flew to her Colts, mind refusing to accept she might die this instant. And the boy's finger was already squeezing the trigger. But a shot rang before Jude's fingers even hit her hilts.

Her eyes squeezed shut. She heard a thump. Lulu screamed. But Jude was still breathing. When she opened her eyes, the boy was gone. He lay at her feet, most definitely dead, head a mess. Strangely, his too big hat still clung to the shard of bone and scalp remaining. But the crystal blue eyes and plump lip were gone for good. She wondered if he'd prayed...

A sob broke the spell and Jude turned to see Eunice standing in the saloon doors - one of them still swinging freely. The Smith and Wesson smoked in her hands. Her curls were a mess and her duster had fallen from one creamy shoulder. Tears slid down her face.

"Eunice." Jude slid past the shocked madam. First, she took hold of the gun. It was still hot through her glove. "Ssshhh." She soothed. "Relax, angel." The girl's arms were locked, fingers still gripping the pistol as if she was cast in bronze. "It's ovah now. It's alright." The arms relaxed enough for Jude to remove the gun. Flicking its safety, she stuck it into her own empty holster. "C'mere." She folded Eunice in her arms, mouth to her ear. "I'm awfully proud of you. I know that was hard." More than words could express, really. Jude recognized that her sweet lover was changed forever.

"What have I done?" Eunice wept in Jude's chest.

Quietly, the madam approached, recognizing that something serious was taking place between the two women. "Take her on upstairs, stranger." She handed over Jude's emptied pistols. "The gals and I will...get this cleaned up."

"Will ya send up some bath water, please?" Jude asked. Lulu nodded. "Let's go, Eunice. We'll get ya cleaned up, huh?"

Eunice stared at nothing as they climbed the steps. "I'll never be clean again."

"Yar soul is as untarnished as it always was, love. I assure ya." Jude closed the door behind them. Tossed her gloves onto the side table and tugged off her bandanna. "Come on. Let's...let's clean yar face up." She wrung a clean flannel in the wash basin, began wiping and dabbing Eunice's wet, sticky face.

"I - I committed murder."

"Eunice." Jude slipped the duster from soft, white shoulders. "Ya can't murder the dead. Those men were souls trapped here just like we are. And they made a choice. They chose to be as wicked after death as they were while they lived."

"He was just a boy."

"A boy who was holding a hand cannon to my face, thank ya very much." Jude pushed gently until Eunice sat on their bed.

"I thought he was going to kill you."

"I did, too." She confessed, straddled a chair across from Eunice. Her hat shadowed her eyes. "Haven't been that scared in a long time."

Eunice put her face in her hands, trying to hold back fresh tears. "You were right. You _can _kill someone if they're threatening something you love." She took a deep, steadying breath. Met Jude's eyes. "Or...someone."

Jude took the small, clammy hands. They still smelled of gunpowder. So did her own. "Eunice -"

A knock interrupted. And a timid voice. "I got some hot water out here, stranger!"

Jude winced at the timing. Eunice nearly smiled. "That's Sarah."

"Sarah. Right." Jude re-tied the bandanna and opened the door.

Sarah was possibly one of the most unfortunate whores ever built. Tall as a pussywillow and just as skinny. Brown hair straight as rail ties and a chest like a mesa view. The others affectionately called her Flat Top, although she was pretty much flat all over. Jude accepted two large steaming kettles from her, but Sarah pushed past her into the room. "Eunice! You alright?" Her concern seemed genuine enough.

"I'm fine, Sarah."

"Madam told us what you did down there. With that gun!" A lanky hand flew to concave chest. "Eunice, you was so brave! And a deadeye! They're sayin' you hit that fella at 100 paces!"

Jude rolled her eyes. Not nearly 100 paces...but the reputation being built by exaggeration could certainly only benefit Eunice. And sure enough, she saw Eunice blushing through the steam in the tub.

"Where'd you even learn ta shoot?" Eunice looked at Jude, and Sarah's already big eyes grew bigger. "D'you teach her that fer real, stranger?" At she subtle nod, Sarah shook her head. "Well, this whole damn town's scared half to death of you now. They're callin' you the hand of justice!"

And at that, Jude had to hide a chuckle. But all she said was: "Good."

"Madam said you was spinnin' around like a dervish. She said you looked like some kinda dark angel down there! Five gunslingers at once!" A chuff of admiration. "Specially the Johnson boys! I tell you what -"

"Sarah." Eunice stood, ushering her friend to the door. "We're gonna get cleaned up now. Okay?"

"Oh!" Sarah laughed in the doorframe. "Course you are! Sorry, honey." She winked at Eunice in the door jamb. "Lucky you, too. Gettin' a rich _and _good lookin' one."

"Sarah, get out!" Eunice shoved. Sarah's laughter echoed down the hall.

Jude tossed hat and bandanna onto the bed. Hung gun belts with care. She leaned backward in the room's only chair, propping boots on the bed rail and bit the end off a tight cigar. Spat it cleanly through the open window. She regarded Eunice calmly as she lit up. "She's right, ya know."

"That I was brave?" Eunice leaned against the closed door for support.

"Well, that yes. And that I'm good lookin'."

Finally, a real smile. And a watery laugh. "God, Jude…"

"You did what you felt was right. Same thing I do, angel." Jude gestured. "Come here." She reached underneath Eunice's skirt, unbuckling the holster on her thigh. "And you _were _very brave. And you _were _ a deadeye." The holster joined Jude's belts on the bed. She continued undressing Eunice as she talked. "And I know this isn't gonna be easy far ya. I know yar gonna feel guilty. And tortured." She was unlacing the corset. "But ya have ta weigh the decisions like ya did in that moment, angel. He was gonna kill me - and damn himself far all eternity even further. Or you were gonna kill him and send his damned soul on ta Hell, savin' us all the trouble of having ta share air with him."

"If he'd killed you…" Eunice trailed off, naked now, arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know what I would have done."

Jude cupped her face. "Ya probably would have shot his dick off."

"If he hadn't been behind the bar…" Eunice shook her head regretfully.

Jude smiled, ushering her lover into the tub. This time, she washed Eunice's hair. Gentled the girl the same way the girl had gentled Jude. She even sang. And it had been a loooong time since Jude sang. But it felt so good: Eunice's hair, Eunice's skin, the heat of the water, and the vibration of her own voice returning.

_Funny how a blessing feels just like a curse_

_Bad love hurts but somehow good love hurts me worse_

_'Cause lately I'm mistakin' honey for the bees_

_Havin' trouble sleepin' with you next to me_

Eunice sighed, occasionally stroking Jude's arm or hand. She tilted her head back for a rinse and Jude kissed her sweetly.

_I sink in you like water_

_Pray you won't pull me under_

_One look and I die_

_Heaven in your eyes_

_Hell hot in the white lies_

_I dive in you like water_

_I sink like a_

_Stone in your water_

_Stone in your water_

Eunice cried. She couldn't hold in or hide the emotions. Guilt, yes, over killing a child - even if that child chose wickedness. But more the crippling fear that she was in love with a person who was not capable of loving her back. An incredible woman who could be devastatingly terrible one moment - slaughtering a room full of gunslingers - and then, so unexpectedly: _this_. This gentle, doting, singing, ravishing woman-soul. It was confusing. Wrenching.

_Tell the truth, you know you cannot keep me safe_

_There's more pain in love than we could find in hate_

_Lately I've been keepin' honey from the bees_

_So if you ever leave, at least it's bittersweet_

Jude raised Eunice's arms, rinsing the soap and the horror of the day away. And instead of lowering them back to the water, she tugged, bringing the now-boneless girl to her feet in the drink. She set about drying next, worshiping creamy skin with sweeping towel strokes. Head to toe, she rubbed, humming and singing to the last clean curl.

_Be gentle with me_

_Have patience with me_

_Oh, 'cause I've been in the corner_

_Of my mind that tells me_

_I'm not good enough_

_For anybody like you_

_Help me out_

_You know I need you like water_

Song finished, lover clean and dry, Jude paused. She studied Eunice's face - the raw emotion there. And Eunice seemed to study her face in turn, reaching up to barely stroke a chiseled cheek. "Jude…"

She caught the hand, clung to it, brought it to her lips. Her throat hurt and she knew it wasn't from singing. She closed her eyes tight against the welling water. "Eunice…I..."

"Shhh." The fingers at her lips straightened, pressed the lips closed. "Don't. I can't. I'm so tired. Will you lay with me until I sleep? Please?"

Jude nodded against the caress. Eunice didn't bother with sleeping attire. Exhausted physically and mentally she simply cocooned herself in quilt and curled in Jude's arm. "Ya know." Jude nuzzled her ear. "I been thinkin' about good names far rabbit farms."

Eunice chuckled. "Like what?" She murmured.

"Like...Hare Hollows."

"Sounds kinda dark."

"Huh. How about Rabbit Run?"

"That's better." She yawned. "You can build the hutches."

"I will, angel."

The night was too quiet. Long after Eunice slept, Jude stared at her. _Rabbit hutches…_ She rose quietly, arm stiff from propping. Eunice's hair dried naturally in gentle waves, and the waves undulated on her chest as she breathed evenly. _What have I done to her? _She shook the thought, her own guilt gnawing, and headed downstairs to investigate the too-quiet situation.

Lulu sat by herself, in one of the few remaining intact chairs, at one of the few remaining intact tables in the saloon. Jude noted the drying wet spots on the floor. Blood had been scrubbed clean. Glass had been swept. The saloon was clean...but empty.

Safely hidden from public view, Jude dropped pretense. She tugged the bandanna down around her neck. Lulu didn't even look up at her when she approached the table. In fact, she barely reacted beyond a sigh when Jude sat. On the table was an ashtray, a half bottle of bourbon, and a glinting sheriff's star.

Jude cleared her throat, propped her boots on a nearby chair. "Quiet night."

Lulu finally looked at her, abject irritation on her face. "You damn smartass."

Jude chuckled. "Better a smartass than a dumbass."

"Or a dead ass." Lulu stabbed a finger at Jude. "It's quiet cuz of you, stranger! This town is terrified of you! They won't come within a hundred yards of my place with you in it!"

Jude spread her hands. "I mean no harm."

"Tell that to the seven new graves on Cemetery Hill!"

"Allow me to rephrase." Jude popped the cork on the bourbon bottle and took a swig. "I mean no harm to anyone who means no harm ta me."

"Well, every soul in this town thinks yer here to clean house."

"Maybe it needs a house-cleaning." Jude looked around. "Certainly improved this place."

"Look here, stranger -"

"Jude."

That stopped the madam mid-tirade. "Pardon?"

Curls unleashed when she removed the hat. Jude shook the golden tresses free, enjoying a good scalp scratch. "My name. It's Jude."

Lulu stared. "Jude."

"Don't wear it out." She offered the bottle.

Grudgingly, and after some hesitation, Lulu accepted."Well, Jude." She took a hearty chug of the brown liquid. "I'll admit you got me vexed and perplexed."

"How's that?"

"What exactly is yer angle here? Ya got the whore ya wanted. You could easily have this whole place, but instead ya pawned it off on me only to empty it out in a blaze of brimstone and tarnation the devil himself might envy. But here you are! Hair like a angel from Heaven and a draw like the fires of Hell. Yer a right damn mysterious bitch, I'll give ya that."

"I'm lookin' far somebody. Two somebodies now, ta be exact."

"Who?"

"Ya wouldn't know 'em."

"You was lookin' fer Mr. Lee. And I knew him."

"That was luck."

"No, it was luck yer little girlfriend showed up with a surprise six-shooter strapped to her money-maker today and blew Jimmy Johnson's face off." Jude shrugged agreement. Lulu leaned toward her. "Can I level with ya?"

"Please."

"The whole town's in a tizzy. They're scared that without a sheriff - even if he was an unrepentant piece of steaming shit - we're gonna descend into a spiral of lawless debauchery and destruction the likes of which we ain't ever seen. And I'll admit I'm worried, too! They're scared of you. And whether or not you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't hurt a fly, you got a whole town to convince otherwise."

"What do you suggest?"

Lulu flicked the sheriff's star on the table. "Pony up, princess. You wanna do some damn good and mean no damn harm? Prove it to 'em."

"Me?!" Jude jolted to attention, boots hitting the floor. "Yar crazy!" She flicked the star back at Lulu. "Find anothah suckah."

Lulu flicked the star back. "There _ain't _no other sucker, fucker. Don't you get it? They're scared you'll blow 'em to Kingdom Come! Nobody's gonna belly up to that bar if you're tendin' it."

Jude rubbed at her face. "Jesus Christ."

"I doubt he'll listen to you. Probly scared you'll put more holes in him."

"Don't blaspheme!" Jude pointed.

"Blasphemin' is the last of my goddamn worries!" Lulu grunted. "I'll level with you again."

"Fine."

"You gotta go."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me like you don't know what I'm a-sayin'! You gotta get outta here. I can't have the devil's death dealer livin' upstairs scarin' off the customers, shootin' the place up every time I turn around. You gotta get out. Quick. Get your favorite whore, and yer demon horse, and that Palomino pony, and yer 39 guns, and yer bourbon, and yer longass legs, and yer jingly jangly spurs, and yer fairy tale hair, and that stinkin' ass hat, and get the fuck out!" She gestured firmly to the doors.

"My hat doesn't stink!"

"Are you even listening to me, Jude?"

"Where am I supposed ta go?"

Lulu settled primly in her chair, a smile forming on her face. "Sheriff Johnson had a real nice house. Right up there on that hill. Three whole stories! With a stable out back and a neat paddock. And it just so happens it's currently uninhabited."

Jude squinted suspiciously. "How much?"

"It's the sheriff's house, heifer!" Lulu snapped as if she was dealing with an idiot. "The sheriff lives in it! That's the deal."

Jude took a deep breath. Fingered the glinting star on the table. _Am I really about to do this? _"Is there a place far rabbit hutches?"

"Jude." Lulu leaned on the table, nonplussed. "You can fill the whole mansion up with rabbits, bunnies, coneys, cottontails and however many members of the family Leporidae that you can fit in there so long as yer outta my damn hair."

"Fair enough." Jude picked up the star, flipping it in her fingers. Lulu watched it flip, transfixed, until Jude fixed it on her shirt - just over her heart. "How's it look?"

"Matches yer hair." Lulu chuckled.

"Shut up."

"Ya know. Yer not a bad lookin' woman, Jude. If this sheriff thing don't work out fer ya, I could offer you a position here in -"

"Seriously." Jude stood. "Shut up, Lulu." She was walking toward the stairs.

"It's multiple positions, actually," Lulu hollered after her. Jude gave her the finger all the way up the stairs, Lulu's laughter following. "G'night, Sheriff!"

"Fuck you, Lulu!"


End file.
